Relentless
by rookashwing
Summary: The prequel to Rook of Skyrim; follows the adventures of Elyrrya Ashwing as she stumbles along the land of Skyrim all the while becoming unwillingly entangled in the political and mythological webs that seem to keep pulling at her, no matter how far she runs. Follows College of Winterhold, Companions, Dark Brotherhood, Thieves' Guild, Civil War, and Dragon Crisis. INDEFINITE HAITUS
1. Stop!

Hey there!

Before you start reading, I would advise you take one of two courses of action:

**Brand spanking new reader?** Stop! Don't go any further! This is meant to be read after Rook of Skyrim; however, I certainly can't stop you if you like things to be in a nice order. If that's more your speed, you'd probably like to read the one shots "Dark Birds" and "Raven's Song" before this at any rate (and in that order).

**Already read Rook of Skyrim? **Thanks for returning! If you haven't, I strongly suggest reading the one shots "Dark Birds" and "Raven's Song" before going any further. Already read those? Awesome sauce! Rock on!

And that's it! Thanks for deciding to read Relentless and I'm going to warn you that it's going to be a long ride. Well, a longer ride than Rook of Skyrim at any rate.

-ash


	2. Arc1: I have a house but no room for you

**And here we are: the first chapter of Relentless. The first couple are going to be background for Elya Ashwing but I'll try to have that wrapped up within five chapters or so. Some changes to the organization: instead of planning for this in chapters, I did roughs in arcs. We'll be in Arc 1 for a good bit of time because after we get to the College of Winterhold, we're gonna be there for a while. But it's ok. You'll get to see Elya being the finest trouble making shit she is (Winterhold is going to grow to hate her, I promise you that). Other than that, I've got the rest planned so don't despair. I've been working on this for the last month or so. Or go ahead and despair. Hanging out with Rook is never fun. Thanks for reading! -ash**

* * *

_"The harshness of Skyrim has a way of carving a man down to his true self."_

- General Tullius, Imperial Legion Commander

_"M'aiq hears many stories of war… yet few of them are true." _

- M'aiq the Liar

_Two days. Four hours. _

The night was too noisy for my tastes: there were too many crickets chirping, too many wolves howling at the moons. Even the rustling of the grass threatened to drive me mad.

_Two days. Four hours. Going on five and then six and then…_

"Elya." Tyval's voice broke through my thoughts and my head snapped to attention, focusing it all on my brother. His voice was hushed, ragged. "We need to…" the last sound carried off so that it became one with the wolves' din.

My legs lazily kicked at the wood of the small porch of our home. It wasn't that I didn't know what Tyval was talking about; I simply refused to acknowledge the suggestion. When I didn't answer immediately, he slipped beside me and crossed his arms while releasing a quiet and low sigh. I wanted to say something but my tongue was frozen; there were no words that would heal this wound. It was too deep. Too wide. Too painful.

When our parents had finally died after days of watching them wither away, _that_ had been the final blow. Their absence tore at the flesh of our family and all of our blood had been spilt. All that was left now were empty husks; I was completely empty.

Empty, empty, _empty._

"I know," I whispered and my lip quivered involuntarily. My teeth caught my lip and bit down hard to distract myself from tears welling up behind my eyes.

Tyval and I needed to bury _bormah _and _monah_.

My body shivered at the thought. Our parents had died two days and four hours ago. When they drew their last breaths, both Tyval and I were at their sides. The image of their thin, weak bodies lying motionless made me sick. Tyval had been the one to lift the blanket over their heads; their coal dark hair listlessly framed their pallid faces, still curled at the ends. Thoughtlessly my fingers spidered their way through the ends of my own hair, wrapping a curled end around my knuckle and then letting it flow freely.

Tyval must have noticed me because mimicked my actions because his own hand reached around and tugged gently at his own hair tied back with an old leather strap. His hair was as long as _bormah_'s had been. A loose strand fell against his face, the dark a stark contrast to his pale face. _My Rook and Raven_, he would say. _Us dark birds_. We looked so much alike, my brother and I despite the fact he was older than me. Our sharp noses ran long and our dark eyes were darker than well-worn oil tanned leather cured by years of sunlight. At sixteen seasons past though, Tyval was looking more like our father with a squared jaw and some thick stubble running the length of it.

He turned toward me, his mouth in a flat line. "Tomorrow," the word sang between us, a blessing and a curse. "We can't let them rot away in there any longer."

I nodded my head solemnly. The house rank of death. When they passed on, both Tyval and me decided we couldn't stand the idea of sleeping in the house so we pulled out some bedrolls we often used when _bormah_ and _monah _took us camping out in the wilds and slept close to the porch, the hard ground unwelcome but more inviting than the dead bodies that lay motionless inside. We took turns going inside to fetch a bit of food or drink but neither of us held an appetite for very long. Neither of us had changed out of our clothes.

My finger found a frayed hole at the place where my thigh and dress met and ran the length of it, almost relishing the way the soft edges fringed the tear. "What will we use?" The question came into being all by itself, I had no control over it.

Tyval shrugged. "I don't know." He sounded annoyed as he ran his hand down his face. "It's late. Let's just get some sleep."

* * *

In the thick of Frostfall, the weather couldn't make up its mind. As _monah _had been fond of saying, "It's no coincidence that Elya's a Serpent; she was born in the most unpredictable of seasons." She would kiss my cheek, her blushing lips painted with something thick and rich leaving behind a sticky mark of color on me. "We thought you would be born as an Atronach but then the Serpent slithered across the sky that Sun's Dusk."

It had been cooler when Tyval and I finally slipped into our bedrolls but now that I was wide awake, the air felt a bit more inviting. The sun was breaking through the thick of the trees, bands of light streaming through the brush. The dark silhouettes looked like they were on fire. Stealing a glance at my brother, I tiptoed toward away from home with the aim of finding my favorite tree. About fifty paces from the safety of our home stood a towering oak; its leaves were already the color of rich honey and dragon's tongue. I spent many a summer lazing about on the branches, legs swinging off to one side while I climbed further and further up.

As my arm stretched up for the nearest branch, it almost felt like the last couple of days were a bad dream. My foot found a hold and I _swore _I could hear my _monah'_s voice ringing out through the thick.

"Elya! Where are you, my wild girl?" Even annoyed, her voice had a lyrical quality to it. When _bormah _listened to her, he always looked entranced by her words. I once asked him if she had been a bard in High Rock.

He had laughed heartily. "A _bard_? Rookling, where do you get these ideas from?"

"It sounds like a song when she speaks," I had replied sheepishly, regretting asking him.

"No, dear, your mother and I had other jobs in High Rock," his hand tussled my hair. "It just sounds like words when Evra talks."

But it hadn't. There was a song on her tongue.

_Had been_, I corrected myself. _You will never hear her song again_.

My legs swung over onto an adjoining branch and I settled there; my hand ran over well-worn notches I had placed there with the small hunting knife I always had on me, tucked in the sheath on my belt.

"Now pay attention," _bormah _warned, "This knife is not a toy, Elyrrya. You're old enough now to have something to help you with small things."

"Like gutting elk?" I had suggested.

He had rolled his eyes and smiled at me good-naturedly. "Good luck gutting an elk with that," he chuckled. "I was thinking more like slicing cheese or cutting length of plant fiber in case your bow string breaks."

_Bormah_ had taught me cordage with the sinew of animals, instructing me to cut the length of the stringy cords longer than I needed, to twist the ends as tight as I could, to wrap and wrap and wrap.

"It doesn't need to be perfect. You just need to have something useable when you're pressed for time." I watched him wind the sinew so tight around his fingers that white bands striped against his skin. "When you're older I'll take you to Morthal and we'll visit a Nord there. Tolgan's a damn fine ranger; he's got a boy now who's older than you are. Think his name's Aslfur or something like that. You could learn something from them." But there would be no trips to the town on a swamp or learning about bows from Nords.

I hissed and my hand recoiled quickly. My thoughts had been so far from now that a splinter had wedged its way into the meaty flesh of my middle finger; just as I had the source of my pain between my teeth I heard a voice call out my name.

"Don't pull this now, Elya!" my brother's voice didn't sound pleased. "We can't just leave them like this!"

I sucked a bit harder and then spit out the splinter. "I know, Tyval!" I yelled back, dropping down my foot met a lower branch and my arm balanced myself as I jumped down. Wincing I heard something tear as my feet met the ground. Immediately I thought, "_Monah'_s going to yell at me." And then my heart broke.

Instead of dwelling on the thought, my attention shifted to my brother. His hair was disheveled, bits of hair now loose from its bindings; dark circles hung heavy below his eyes. I hadn't noticed it over the past few days but he was wearing _monah_'s necklace underneath his shirt. Now it fell loose against his chest, the coppery glint shone dimly against the early morning sun. _Bormah_ often gave her grief over it.

"Ah, ever devoted," his hands would palm the amulet that hung from the metal cord, a triangle in the center with three circles bordering each side. "Bretony life will never leave you, my love."

"Oh, shut it," she would reply sticking out her tongue and yanking back her necklace. "You know as well as I Julianos never harmed anyone."

He would snicker at that. "Tell that to anyone who ever faced a battlemage loyal to him." But it never went any farther than that. Just a little friendly joking that was some inside joke between my parents. It must have bothered Tyval to have it loose because his hands quickly tucked it into his shirt.

My brother met me at the base of the oak. "Tristyval, I _know_. Stop treating me like a child."

He briefly acknowledged my complaint with the roll of his eyes. "I'm _not_." And then suddenly, his voice began to crack. "I just want to be finished with this."

There was no second thought when I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in his chest. When his arms returned my gesture, my tears found new a new source of sadness and I sobbed loudly. My heart pounded in my ears and my face felt flushed; I couldn't breathe through my nose as snot began to clog my airways. In between my own blubbering I heard Tyval's own weeping, quieter and seemingly more refined. One hand rested against my shoulders but another reached up and held the back of my head. His long fingers lightly gripped my hair as he wept.

I pulled back and half-smiled as I ran the sleeve of my shirt underneath my nose, "Sorry 'bout your shirt."

Tyval's bloodshot eyes glanced down momentarily as he pulled the shirt from his chest. "Thanks," he laughed joylessly. "As if I didn't have enough to worry about." His arm wrapped around my shoulder and we walked back to our empty home without a word between us.

As we stood at the closed door, neither of us made the first move.

How often had I passed through this door thoughtlessly? My mind flew to every memory that I ran in and out, chasing after Tyval or following _bormah_ or help _monah_. The last few weeks though every time I closed the heavy wood door with its creaky metal hinges, I was afraid that when I returned my parents would have died. Each time I came back with a couple of rabbits in my grip and bound by the neck, I would catch my breath before I summoned the courage to open the door again and again.

Taking in a deep breath now I hoped that some of that courage remained somewhere inside of me as my hand suddenly became sweaty. When I threw door open, the quiet unnerved me. It looked the same: the table still sat in the corner with scraps of food lying about, the fire place remained empty and cold. Both of us moved slowly toward our parents' room. I thought I saw Tyval grasp at the amulet around his neck. From where I stood, all I could see where their feet tenting up the thick blanket.

He took a deep breath and his hand found mine. "Ready?"

Squeezing in response, I shook my head violently. "No," I choked out. "I mean, shouldn't we dig their graves first? Then we'd have somewhere to put them."

Instead he disagreed, "And how big should we make the plots?"

"_How are we going to dig their plots?_" I hissed, pulling my hand from his. "With our bare hands? Maybe you've got a spell for digging up earth, hmm?"

"I don't know, alright!" One hand raked through his hair roughly. "What I do know is that we can't keep sleeping outside and waiting until their corpses have withered down to nothing but _bone_. We have to at least get the bodies out."

The thought of _bormah _and _monah_'s body rotting outside where the flies could lay maggots and the wolves could rip their flesh apart enraged me. "No! Until we know what we're doing, I refuse!" My hands flew out and I continued to shriek, "_You can't just let them sit out there and let the wilds claim them!_"

Tyval didn't take the abuse quietly. "Well then! Why don't _you _tell _me_ then? I'm sure someone with _thirteen _seasons under their belt knows _everything_."

And it was childish but my anger was too white hot for me to see clearly. Jerking my dress upwards I unleashed a swift kick to his shin. He immediately wrenched the affected leg up toward his chest and howled in pain.

"To Oblivion with you!" he cursed, still rubbing at the hard knot that I was certain was forming where I had struck him. "This is _exactly _why Mama and Papa were always ran ragged."

As soon as the words left his mouth, he inhaled sharply and his lips parted in protest but I was already storming off to the room we had shared since we were small. When we were younger we had shared one bed but _bormah_ had to build another one for when Tyval became older.

"He's too old to have you as a bunk mate, Rookling. It won't be soon before long that your brother will be a man and he needs his space."

At first my feelings had been hurt but eventually I grew to understand his meaning. Now I flopped onto my own bed and violently cried. My straw mattress smelled so unfamiliar to me that I could have been in anyone's room. When I felt Tyval's weight sit beside me, I almost lashed out again but was too exhausted to try.

He let me continue for a couple of minutes before interrupting my sobbing. "I'm sorry." It was so quiet I thought I had imagined it. My brother and I were usually at odds but it was never _this _tense. Sitting up, my legs moved so that I was now sitting beside them. When he looked at me, it was eerie the way his face looked the way I felt: broken, battered and defeated.

Fiddling around with my hands mindlessly, my mind tried to find the words. "I thought they were going to get better," I admitted. Tyval didn't come between me and my words. "I _really _thought that it was nothing. I just didn't want to believe…"

"…that they were right?" he supplied. "They weren't _that_ old, Elya." It was almost reassuring to hear him correct me with that knowing tone of his. "When they told us about Bretons burning quick and bright, I think they meant _natural _deaths."

I snorted at that. "Quick and bright my arse. I'm going to make sure I live _forever_." The joke elicited a weak smile from him before he chastised me.

"Watch your language."

"Yes, yes." I rolled my eyes.

And we sat in uncomfortable, oppressive silence again.

Tyval's hands rested in his lap, his eyes cast downward and the only sound coming from him was steady breathing. I couldn't sit still; I tugged at the sleeve of my dress and then thumbed the new tear at the seam of my dress. It was near my hips but the tear wasn't large.

"Seriously," he broke the stillness. "What do you think we should do?"

My mind raced at the possibilities. Getting the bodies out would be one thing but disposing of them was another. For the past couple of days, Tyval and I had mentioned it to one another but we never went any farther than, "We need to get rid of the bodies."

Suddenly I remembered something _monah _had said once.

"Those mad Nords, burning their bodies on pyres. What do they think they are? Dunmer?"

I wasn't wholly sure what she had meant but the gist was clear.

"Burn them."

"_What?_" His eyes widened with more vigor than either of us had experienced lately.

"Just listen," I pleaded. "If the gods-fearing Nords do it all the time, it can't be _that _bad. We certainly can't drag them all the way to High Rock. It will take us _hours_ to dig their graves and for what? For their bodies to rot in the ground? There is no Hall of the Dead to preserve them. Face it: we have no other reasonable options."

I searched his eyes for any sign of conflict but the only thing his almost-black irises gave me was weariness. Slowly but surely he nodded his head and his hand reached up to finger the amulet inside his shirt, the metal creating a heavy impression against the linen.

"Alright." Standing up he motioned back toward our parents' resting place. "It's going to take both of us to get them out but we'll need some tinder to set them on. Let's go get that first."

We didn't know what we were doing; both he and I just gathered bundles upon bundles of fallen and dry thick branches. Even when it seemed like we had enough, once we arranged them appropriately we still had to retrieve more. Neither of us was certain what a pyre should look like but me and Tyval had come to an agreement that it probably looked like a mattress. He laid the branches lengthwise while I worked on crossing them widthwise; once we were both satisfied we stepped back and took stock.

"Do you think it's far away enough from the house? From the brush?" he asked.

I glanced over my shoulder, the house a good twenty paces away. We had found an area relatively clear of stray brush but some small plants lay here and there. "I suppose so. The only thing left to do is drag them out here."

The words felt bitter on my tongue the way we had to talk about our parents; overnight they had become corpses that we dragged, bodies we disposed of. But we had cried and cried and cried. There would be enough time for tears afterwards. The fact was we had two rotting bodies in our home. This time when we stood at their door, we didn't hesitate.

Tyval ripped the blanket off their body and I nearly retched. The smell was some putrid mix of molded fruit and rotted meat but _worse. _Their skin was ashen but didn't look like flesh; both stomachs were bulging and their tongues were a sickly looking purple, sticking out of their grey lips. There was no way I could stop myself from shaking and when I finally spied Tyval, it didn't seem like he was faring any better. Hand to his mouth, he kept shaking his head.

"I can't do this," his voice stated too calmly but unevenly.

I couldn't disagree. It was one thing talking about it, planning for the afterwards. But now. Now. These weren't our parents. They couldn't be.

The rank stench hit me again and I had to swallow some vomit that was threatening me at the back of my throat. Part of me wanted to run as far as I could. Run to the Dragon Bridge, sprint to Morthal. Just anywhere but _here_ and having to smell my rotting parents. From somewhere that I didn't know existed inside me, I felt something give. It was like the times I fell from trees and gashed open my knees. Once it happened, there was nothing to lose. It was done. The gash had already happened. The worst was over. These weren't our parents. They were just _things._ A sensation that reminded me of cold ran through my veins.

"We have to, Tristyval," lowering my own hand, I felt my resolve strengthen. "Leave them here any longer and it'll be worse."

As if hearing the truth in my words gave him strength, he snapped the blanket outwards and laid it so it splayed open on the ground. "Help," was all he said but he motioned toward our father.

_The worst is over, the worst is over_, I tried reminding myself. And when both of us grabbed a handful of our father's clothes to tip him over the edge of the bed, we both jumped when a gasp passed through _bormah_'s lips.

"Shit," Tyval spit out, shaken and breathing raggedly. I nodded, sharing his sentiment. My own breathing had sharpened and shallowed. But then the _new _smell hit us: loosed bowels.

"_Gods_," I groaned and clamped my hand over mouth and nose. My brother on the other hand wasted no time darting past me, one arm pressed to his stomach and a hand over his mouth. When I rushed outside to meet him, my own stomach lurched at the sound of his sick splattering against the ground. Swallowing a fresh wave of vomit, I rubbed his back. "Do you need something to drink?"

Still doubled over, he shook his head. His whole body shook violently and when he finally met my gaze, his eyes seemed hollow. Sweat dripped from his brow and he was paler than the corpses of our parents.

"I'm fine. Let's just get this over with."

So we went back to work. Tyval grabbed the ends of one end of the blanket and I grabbed the other; somehow we were able to maneuver the body out of the house but when we reached the outdoors, neither of us pretended to be careful. As we hauled the body across the ground, wide streaks of dirt and brush and rock became unsettled in our wake. The job of actually _getting _the body on the makeshift pyre though was another story entirely.

"_Lift_, Elya," Tyval growled.

"I'm _trying_," my arms strained as I felt my elbows lock painfully. Squatting down, I tried lifting with my legs and with a final press of force we were able to throw his body onto the bed of wood.

"Ready?" my brother reached over and tussled my hair as if we were playing some sort of game. No smile crossed his face.

"Yeah," I exhaled, my muscles still aching.

_Monah _was lighter and we were now prepared for the whiff of stink that hit us when we tipped her body onto a blanket we had retrieved from a chest. Neither of us wanted to comment on the blotchy brown-red marks that seemed to dot her underside. It seemed a little strange once both of them were outside; we were so used to the looming fear of the still bodies in our house that when they were absent the fear never lessened.

Standing over the corpses, all that was left was to ignite the flames.

"Maybe we'll find some oil," Tyval's voice didn't sound hopeful. "It'll make the job easier."

So we rummaged through the house. Tyval raided the kitchen area while I volunteered to search our parents' room. Once I had opened the window, it was a little more tolerable. Exhausting all the options I had, my attention turned to the one chest Tyval and I were forbidden to touch. It had a thick lock on it that could only be opened with a key. Where the key was, I couldn't guess.

"Tyval!" I called out. "Hand me a knife!"

When Tyval appeared in the doorway, his annoyance was visible. "Why in Oblivion do you need a _knife_?" Despite his objection, a knife was in his hand.

Without answering I motioned for him. "Just hand it over."

"And just _what _are you planning on doing?" he slapped the utensil into my hand. "_Sawing _though the chest?"

"Shush," leaning down so I was eye level with the lock I moved the knife so it would slide into the hole. "Maybe we can just pick the lock."

At that he burst out into uncontrollable laughter. "_You_? You're going to _pick a lock _with a gods damned _knife?_"

"Watch your language," I grumbled, still fiddling with the lock. "Go see if you can find the key."

While I tried shoving the knife this way and that, Tyval rummaged underneath their bed. When he sat beside me, a wide and smug grin was plastered onto his face.

"And look here," flipping open the box, his hand immediately produced a key. "Now you can stop playing apprentice thief."

Rolling my eyes, I snatched the key from him and undid the lock. Lifting the lid open, I gasped. "Spellbooks," I gasped.

"What?" Tyval shoved me lightly so that he could peer inside. "By the Eights, Nines, and Tens…"

My heart sunk a little at hearing my _bormah'_s favorite curse.

Reaching in to pull out a book, my eyes widened at the symbol on the front.

"Tyval," I whispered quietly. "This is a destruction spellbook."

His eyes were too focused on other things. "There are so _many_. Why would they have had so many?" he mused.

My fingers were already flipping through pages quickly; I licked the pad of my index finger before my eyes stopped on a page. _Flames. Fire. _My heart raced, my breathing quickened. _What had my parents been hiding?_

"Brother," I tugged at his sleeve. "It's a fire spell."

As if remembering I was there, he directed his attention toward me. "The good that does. Best either of us can make is a candle."

Shaking my head I continued to read. "No…" my eyes skimmed over more words. "It makes sense. 'Harnessing fire is asking magick to yolk together life and breath in one sigh,'" I read. "'Once you've bound your breath with your life, release the fire.'"

He shook his head. "It _sounds _like gibberish."

Closing my eyes, I let the words settle in my mind. Something about it resonated in me; the idea of fire and breath.

_Fire in _su'um_._

My eyes snapped open and I shook off the feeling.

"What's wrong?"

"I…uh…" my voice waivered. "Fire in _su'um_. Does that mean anything to you?"

"Soom?" his mouth contorted in confusion. "What are you going on about this time?"

The thought wouldn't leave me. Something about it burrowed under my skin.

"Never mind," standing up, I closed the book. "I think I can do this."

* * *

By the time I was able to even get something that looked like a flame to manifest itself, night had fallen. The light from the stars fell softly and didn't try to compete with the moons. Tyval and I were both nursing bottles of ale, the kind our parents wouldn't let us touch. With our knees drawn, we watched the fire burn into the night sky. Each sip was bitter but also provided some sort of release from what we were watching. The smell of burnt flesh hung heavy in the air. Tristyval did his best to make it look like we were concerned about sending our parents off; he had drawn crude symbols of Arkay in the ground beside each of them.

"Tyval," I half-slurred. "They're dead." Surprisingly, more tears threatened to burst from my eyes.

"They're dead," he agreed nodding solemnly. A few moments passed and he added. "But we'll be ok."

I didn't whole-heartedly believe him but agreed.

"As long as we're together."


	3. Arc 1: The Only One Left

The grating sound of flint on the fire striker made me grit my teeth. From across the room, Tyval growled in frustration as he struck harder and faster. I slammed the book I was reading.

"Can't you do anything right?" I yelled. "Just light the damn thing already!"

He responded by hurling the flint at me and it glanced my forehead. My hand shot up to hold the pain now springing out as I heard him shout back, "Well, sorry I don't want to wait a _few hours _for you to light the thing! I'd like to get the water boiling before _dawn_."

My first reaction was to throw the stone back at him but instead I burst into a fresh set of tears, hiding my face in a spell book. A hard knot was forming where I'd been hit. Tyval sighed loudly but came over to sit beside me. When he slid an arm around my back, his hand rubbed at a spot between my shoulder blades.

"I'm sorry," he quietly apologized.

Sniffling I shook my head. "No, it's ok. I shouldn't have yelled at you." His arm squeezed me tighter and he laid a quick kiss on the top of my head. Despite my need to keep more tears at bay, another slow and steady roll escaped me. My forehead didn't hurt _that _badly; this was just how things had been since we burned our parents. The first day had been unnaturally quiet. My brother and me silently worked to clean the stench of rot out as best we could; every inch of bed clothing had been scrubbed in water so hot it turned our hands crimson. The lye soap had been so strong that it burned at the small cuts in my skin.

Then there was another day and then another. We picked at the scraps of food on the table but neither of us hunted or cooked. Occasionally I passed some time reading a few of the books that had been locked away but my mind wasn't in the place to do so. More often than not me and Tyval just sat on our beds and talked but not to each other. There were always just questions that we couldn't let slip but we knew the other didn't have an answer.

"Why didn't we get sick?" my voice choked out.

"What did our parents do in High Rock?" Tristyval spoke to the wall.

"Why did they leave us alone?" another question posed and unresolved.

"What are we going to do? Why are we on our own?"

Why, why, why.

So after a week, Tyval made the decision to cook. I refused to go out and find meat so he used some of our stores of apple and cabbage. Both of us sliced and pulled, knives rhythmically moving back and forth. Still more silence. Until he decided to try and strike a fire.

Tyval opened the book and glanced at what I was reading. "More of those spellbooks?"

I nodded. They had been my only welcome distraction with all the quiet around us. "I don't really understand them. They're nothing but a bunch of Illusion and Alteration books."

He took a closer look and shook his head. "Well, if after all these years we couldn't move past a stupid candle then I'm not sure you would." Another moment passed. "Mass paralysis? Gods, some of these spells look dangerous."

Solemnly I agreed. "Most of the books are either for Illusion or Alteration spells. There was that one Destruction book but other than that just some old maps and that time piece."

It wasn't the first time I had told him that but there wasn't anything else to add. I couldn't figure out why so many old dusty tomes had been locked away, why my parents needed maps of every country in Tamriel well-worn and marked. Neither of us could figure out what the time piece was at first. It was unlike anything we had seen before and indescribably old; the numbers around the face weren't marked in Common but in something Tyval had guessed: "Daedric?"

"Let's just forget the books. Here," I reached over to where the stone was and handed it to him. "I don't want the food to go to waste." The only thing he gave me was a smirk.

"Don't want to try your hand at those flames again?"

Standing up I punched him with slight force in his arm. "Arse."

We tried smiling weakly at one another, pretending to fall back into our usual ways. But the teasing was less than half-hearted, the jeering not quite as harsh.

The fact was the silence in the house was deafening; each time I woke up it shocked me not to hear _bormah's _and _monah_'s hushed words while they sat at the table simply talking to one another. Every time the door slammed behind me, I kept expecting to hear _bormah_ remind me, "If you break it, _you _will fix it." It made me nervous the way ghosts of their words haunted every corner, hung from the rafters and wouldn't let us live in peace.

Even when he did finish cooking, we didn't eat heartily. There were motions, they passed; the spoons dipped into the bowls and whatever filled them we swallowed. Although my bowl wasn't emptied, when my stomach ached I stopped eating and pushed away from my seat. Noiselessness made my footsteps seem monstrous but when I reached my bed I didn't bother changing. I slept. At some point I awoke and then our lives went on as usual. I stared at books I couldn't understand. Tyval whittled at a scraps of wood with his hunting knife, each stroke leaving behind a pile of shavings that had since grown to be a small mound.

More mind-numbing silence.

The sun rose. The sun set. Our only acknowledgement to the passage of time was to light candles when enough light didn't stream through the windows. Sometimes Tyval read while I paced back and forth; every time my feet made too much noise, I lightened my steps. Paying mind to how my toes hit the wood, I would spend hours just going back and forth and back again. Some days the only sound between us was the flip of a page or the creak of our beds as we laid down for the evening.

"Elya," my brother whispered in the dark as I tried to stave off the cold of the night, wrapping my blankets tighter around me. Winter was soon upon us. "One of us is going to have to get supplies soon. We're running low.'

Cocooning myself deeper into my thick pelts, I shuddered. Warmth eluded me. "One of us?" I repeated. "Why can't we go together?" I mere thought of being left alone right now terrified me; what if he left me alone at home? Any little noise was deafening. Every crack of a branch and chirp of a bird made me jump.

I heard him shift. "Because one of us needs to stay here. Who knows what might happen if we leave the house empty? You know bandits sometimes stray around here and Papa and Mama aren't here to drive them off."

The thought was succeeded by some muffled sobbing and it nearly caused me to weep. Swinging my legs over the bed, I clutched my blanket around me. When my bare feet hit the cold floor a hiss of displeasure escaped me. As softly as I could, I tiptoed to Tyval's bed. "Move over." There was no argument from him as he lifted his covers and I crawled in. As I curled up closer to him, he wrapped an arm around me and kissed the side of my head. A mad thought crept into my mind. "What if we just left?"

"Left?"

Nodding, I repeated. "Yes. Just take what we need and never come back here." Voicing it almost made it seem possible. "We could go to Dragon Bridge or Morthal or anywhere else. I'm sure we could find jobs and stay in inns." I let it linger in the air for a second before adding. "I can't take it staying here."

When he didn't add anything I whispered, "Please, Tristyval. It's almost Evening Star. Soon there won't be anything to hunt and the snow will be too thick for us travel."

Tyval released a heavy sigh and I knew it meant he was tired of me pressing. But I just _knew _it was a good idea. I had paid attention throughout the years and this was about the time that _bormah _would go to Morthal and come back with a cart full of supplies to last us until Sun's Down. By then the snow and ice melted away and he could make his trips of Dragon Bridge. But now we didn't even have enough money to do something like that; _monah _had spent a good portion of it at the apothecary. All of it spent in vain.

"Let's talk about it tomorrow," he finally said.

And we spent another quiet night sleeping fitfully with the sounds of the wilds thundering around us.

* * *

About a week later I was busying myself with making some shoddy arrows, sharpening the edges of the straightest twigs I could find in the woods with my knife. Without warning, Tyval came up from behind and covered my eyes with my hands, causing my knife to slip and nick my index finger.

"Ow! You bastard!" My injured hand flew at him but he blocked me, chuckling. "What was that for?"

"Here," his hand drew something out of his pocket wrapped in linen.

I snatched it from his hand but eyed at him suspiciously. "What is it?"

Tyval rolled his eyes and slid the arrow from my lap, poking at the tip of the unfinished edge with his finger. "Don't you know what day it is?"

Unwrapping the cloth, I found a sweet roll hiding underneath. I gasped and stared up at him. "Oh." That was all I had. As I continued to examine the treat, confusion suddenly surfaced. Neither of us had strayed far from the house since _monah _had traveled to Morthal and I _knew_ Tyval hadn't been baking. "Where did this come from?"

Tyval sat beside me with the unfinished arrow in his hand. "Mother. She bought it when she was buying potions. I guess she thought that by the time your birthday came…" There was no reason for him to finish the thought.

The roll sat in my lap, the icing on top a little cracked and the usually soft cake was slightly staled from age. I wanted to cry, I really did. In my hands would be the last thing I would ever receive from my _monah_ and I couldn't save it forever. Over and over again, my hands turned over the roll; its stickiness clung to my fingertips. After a moment, I dug in and broke the roll in half. "Here," I offered. "Have it."

He didn't even protest. When his hand finally did grab the half my hand was giving him, Tyval looked up at me. "One second." And then he stood up, strolling back to our room while taking a thoughtful bite of the treat. I did the same, relishing the almost too sweet of the sugar on my tongue. Chewing slowly, my mind finally realized that I had now seen fourteen seasons. With the tragedy in our home, I had forgotten all about the turning of another season in my life.

My brother didn't take any time returning. This time though there was no ceremony when he laid a thick, leather bound journal in front of me. "It's about time you worked on your handwriting anyway. It's atrocious."

"Tyval," the whisper didn't have much power. Opening the journal, I flipped through the empty pages until I reached the beginning. On the first page were two lines: _T. Ashwing_ on the first and _You will find your talents. _I frowned. The journal had been _his _last birthday gift from our parents. Writing had always been Tristyval's favored hobby. We both read and both of us were equally unskilled at magick but while I spent my free time running around and loosing arrows, Tyval preferred to work in his empty journals and cataloging plants, drawing animals or copying entries from the spell books _bormah would_ allow us to read.

He slapped me on the back. "C'mon. Time for you to maybe think about what you're doing. That's why papa started giving me empty journals as presents. He kept saying, 'Sometimes to use magick it takes you looking in yourself first.'"

His hesitation wasn't wholly unexpected; for years Tyval struggled with spellcasting the way I had but in a different way. Once _monah _had tried to teach us a spell called "clairvoyance." Both she and _bormah_ were talented but more often than not she let him teach us, told him, "I think both you and I know I'm not a patient enough person to teach anyone magick." But once, she tried. Gods. How old had we been? I might have been twelve seasons past. Tyval and I hadn't been able to find some flower that she needed for a salve. Evra Ashwing had been a lot of things in her life but, true to her word, patient had not been one of them.

"I've _told _you time and time again, it's _easy_," standing in front of us her palm dragged down her face. "Just… just think about it like this." Her hand grabbed the nearest object to her: a knife. "What do you see here?"

"A knife," we had both replied.

"That's just how you've placed it into your way of thinking but this reality, _this _object has many layers. Yes, we call it a knife but think about what it is _really_."

Tyval and I had looked at one another. "It's a _knife_," he asserted.

But the way she was holding it, the way the sun glinted off the blade, I thought I had _seen _something. My hand reached out and touched it gently. "But it's a _knife_." The way I said _knife_ must have made _monah_ hear something promising in the word.

"Yes," turning the knife so it laid flat in her palm, she continued. "Now, remove all the distractions from this knife. See it for what it _really _is and you'll know where it is in reality. Here. Go hide it, I'll close my eyes."

And then she handed the knife to Tyval and we both ran outside, far from the house. We found a place by a tree more than twenty paces away and dug a hole. When we returned to _monah_ she only rewarded us with a sly smile. "Was that really the best you could do?" Flicking her hand in the air a stream of wispy blue light wrapped around her fingers and she tugged. "Well, c'mon now."

Without any trouble at all, she had found the buried knife. When she asked us how we thought she accomplished the task, Tyval only shrugged. But I thought I realized something about the spell.

"The light, the way it feels. It's all because I see it that way, feel it that way."

It was one of the few times I saw a glimpse of who my _monah_ _really_ was; her grin scared me the way it slowly appeared on her face and the way she hissed, "_Yes_. And when you can peel away all the layers you can alter what the object looks like without changing it. When you can shift it to fit _your _needs, finding your goal is never a problem."

My hand ran across the soft leather of the book. Tyval continued, "Besides, if you keep good enough accounts, you'll never know when something you knew will become important."

Rolling my eyes, I pushed the book aside. "Like what? What plants grow in Skyrim? _That'll _be useful."

"Shut it, you _Nord_." The smile on his face tried to jest at me but it was too tired.

"_Nord_?" I spit out, standing up. "I'll show _you_ a _Nord._" Playing as if I was going to punch him, my arm swung but then when it made contact with his arm I made sure to simply tap him. "But I'll let you off easy today."

It felt like the same old way we used to pick on one another but it lacked the usual passion that normally hid behind the words and actions. My brother sighed a little heavier but the weight on his shoulders didn't release itself. "Elyrrya."

Squinting at him, I crossed my arms. "I don't like how this sounds already."

"I'm heading out to Morthal tomorrow—"

"—what? No!"

"—I'm heading out and that's the end of the discussion." His eyes couldn't hide how weary he sounded.

Still I refused to relent. "Did you not think about what I said a few days ago?"

He propped his elbows up on the table and rested his head in his palms. "_Elya_," the groan was beginning to sound more and more irritated. "I know the idea upsets you but one of us has got to get some supplies and I'm eldest."

"_Upsets me? _Of course it upsets me!" I yanked an arrow from the table and hurled it to the ground. "You can't just _leave me alone_ like this!"

Tyval flew to his feet and prodded a finger hard into my shoulder. "I'm _not _leaving you! Are you so _stupid _you can't see what needs to be done? We have _nothing_. No gold, no food, no _parents_." He emphasized his point by counting off the reasons on his other hand. "And we can't just leave our _home_."

Snorting, I growled, "And what about _you_, huh? You're so blind that you can't see that with _nothing _we have nothing holding us here." My anger flashed brilliantly before my eyes; clenching my hands tighter against my dress, I felt my knuckles stretch uncomfortably taut underneath my skin.

Raking his hands through his dark hair, Tyval asserted, "This. Is. Our. _Home_. We cannot simply _leave it." _

A slow pain sat dully in my jaws; I realized I had been gritting my teeth. We stared at one another, the fire in our eyes competing for dominance. Deep down, I knew he was right: this was our home. That fact aside though, our home had grown unbearably empty.

As if to expel my fears, he grabbed me unexpectedly and gave me a terse hug. "Sister, I would _never_ leave you." He took a moment to examine my face and gave me another weary smile. "Even if you are a pain in the arse."

I had refused to let go of my anger completely. "But you're still going to Morthal."

"I _must_," he ran his hand through the ends of my hair. "Listen, I won't be gone long. Half a day at most. I'll just take the spellbooks, a few odds and ends, sell them, and then buy what I can from the profit. There's only two of us now; I'm more than certain I can fetch enough gold."

His hand drew up to the necklace he hadn't taken off, thumbing the amulet. It had meant so much to him now. There were times I would catch glances of him doing something and his finger would be mindlessly stringing the chain of it. "Don't sell it."

Tyval gave me another quick squeeze. "I'll leave first thing tomorrow morning with the cart and be back by the end of the day."

When I didn't respond he asserted, "Promise."

* * *

How I had not managed to wear the floor down to the bare earth by now amazed me.

Before the sun had even broke across the horizon, my brother was up and dressed ready to head to Morthal. Even as I uttered my last complaint sending him off, he assured me, "Elya, if you don't shut it, I _will _run off to Morthal."

His jest stayed with me as the sun rose, stretched high during midday, and now it was threatening to set; just as I was about to make another pass I heard the familiar creaking of our family cart making its way up the worn path our heels had dug after years of walking back and forth. I flung open the door.

"Tyval!" Then my face fell.

My brother had indeed come back with the cart but it was still full. This was made worse by whatever mongrel was now happily trotting close behind him. The dog was full grown and _big_: a typical Nord-looking pet, it had a thick upper body and even thicker fur.

"_What in Oblivion have you been doing all day_?" I yelled.

My shouting must have excited the mutt because it rushed past Tyval and hurled itself after me, pawing at me and barking eagerly as it pawed at my dress leaving behind muddy streaks.

"Agh!" My growling did nothing to dissuade it. "_Tyval! _Get this dog off of me!"

Tyval pulled the cart beside me and bent down to scratch the dog underneath an ear. It rolled over on the ground to expose his belly; my brother obliged it by scratching against his rib cage. "Ah, don't listen to Elya, Meeko. She's just being a thorn in the arse."

Even as he contentedly petted the hound, my mind raced at the possibilities of how my brother had been wasting his day. Apparently, he found the time to not only miss Morthal completely but ended up picking another mouth to feed. My mouth flattened unhappily as I crossed my arms and tapped one foot impatiently.

"_Again_, what have you been doing today?" There was no possible way for me to have forced more anger into my voice.

The look on his face was nothing but ridden with guilt. "That is a long story." He grabbed the cart and motioned toward the house. "Let's get something to eat while I explain."

Despite my displeasure, my feet followed him and my hands helped him get the books from the cart back in the house. Underneath the books was a sack he took in. I bit my tongue as the dog got underfoot and held in any comment I had about how stupid the name he had picked for it was. A heavy sigh came after Tyval sat down and helped himself to some leftover stew. I didn't feel like eating; I had spent the better part of a day worrying about the bastard and he had the nerve to act as if nothing was wrong.

"So?"

He slurped another spoonful. "I got lost."

This had to be some joke. "Lost."

Nodding, Tyval continued. "This map," he pulled out one of the worn maps we had retrieved from our parents' room and folded it out on the table so I could see what he was talking about, "is _old_. See here?" His finger pointed to the net of waterways that surrounded Morthal to the northwest. "These two bridges that connected this part of the land to the town no longer exist. I thought I could just follow the river to the nearest bridge which is further south. And then I got turned around."

"And then what? You happened to find a _dog_ on the way to nowhere?"

The dog had been obediently sitting by his feet since Tyval had sat down to eat. "Meeko? Found this guy wandering around this shack with some dead Nord inside. But you can handle yourself, can't you boy?" As he went down to pet it, I groaned.

"Brother, you didn't sell anything. We can barely take care of ourselves much less this mutt." My hand absentmindedly picked at some of the mud that had caked onto my dress.

Tyval offered me a sort of lopsided smile as he rested his cheek against a propped up hand. "I know where Dragon Bridge is and it's closer. I'll pop over there, buy a cheap map. Damn, I might even be lucky and find a carriage running from Solitude across the bridge."

Rolling my eyes I frowned. "What you aren't telling me is how long you'll be gone."

He snorted and gave me a half-hearted laugh. "And when did you become the distrusting sort?"

"I'm always leery of someone who's in too good of a mood," I answered, reaching past him and taking a slice of cheese from a plate. "You're too easy going about all of this."

Swinging a leg over the bench, Tyval pulled out the sack from earlier and undid the knot that bound it. "Because we'll be ok for a little while longer."

When I glanced inside, I gasped. "_Food_? Where in Oblivion did you find it?" My hand darted to the nearest apple and I took a hearty bite out of it.

"I found it with this guy," Tyval gave Meeko another quick rub underneath his chin. "Nothing much else in the shack but there was a barrelful of food. Nord looked freshly dead so my guess is _he _just got back from getting a month's worth of food for himself."

Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I asked with my mouth full, "Sho how lang will yoo be?" A fleck of apple flew out of my mouth.

"Right… _that_." His eyes darted away from mine for a moment and he cocked his mouth to one side. "I don't know."

There it was: the bad news.

"You don't know meaning you don't know when you'll be back."

Tristyval threw up his hands in frustration. "It's not like I'll be gone for a month, Elyrrya." Meeko started pacing around Tyval to grab his attention. "Not now," he shooed at the dog. "There's plenty of food here and I'll take a pack to make sure I'll be good for at least a week—" I opened my mouth to protest but he held up a hand. "No. I won't be gone for a whole _week_. Gods. It's just best to be cautious. Besides, you'll have Meeko here to keep you company while I'm gone."

I looked back at the dog and then back at him. "You've got to be kidding me. You drag back the mutt of a dead Nord thinking it would make me forget about all this?"

His hands ran through his hair roughly as he inhaled deeply. "Elya, what in Oblivion do you _want_ from me? I'm doing my _best_."

"I don't know!" I shrieked on the verge of tears. "But you've just gone and done all of this, made all of the decisions without any consideration to me at all!"

Then his hands slammed down on the table. "Consideration! You would have us just pack up our lives, our home! And for what?" When I didn't answer him, he yelled again. "Go on! Tell me! What exactly are you hoping for if we leave?"

I bit my bottom lip to still it from shaking but I only managed to whisper, "I don't know."

"That's right! And instead of helping me, you'd rather fight me every time I want to take a step." This time his arms just fell to his sides. For the first time I finally _saw _my brother's face and how weary he looked; Tyval was too young to look that old. The lines around his mouth and the creases at the corners of his eyes deepened as he scowled at me. "Just let me try and take care of us."

Against my better judgment, I leaned over and gave Meeko a few gentle strokes against his back. Despite being a little unexpected, his presence wasn't wholly terrible. "Tyval, what if you can't find buyers or a carriage or get lost again or—"

His arms grabbed me and I reached around to return his embrace. "Sister, everything will turn out fine. I'll leave again tomorrow morning and be back before you know it."

* * *

The first day was actually enjoyable. Meeko slept with me and awoke when Tyval readied to leave yet again. When I had finished breakfast, we ran around the woods and I was pleasantly surprised to find that he wasn't altogether useless; at first I was just throwing sticks to see if he would actually retrieve them. After every throw, the dog would dart after it and eagerly trot back with the twig in his mouth. With any slight noise his ears perked up and his body remained motionless until he was satisfied that nothing was out of sorts.

On the second day I decided to press my luck and went hunting with some of the shoddy arrows I had whittled down into fine points. Once I had loosed one, Meeko was more than happy to follow it; I was shocked to discover that when my arrow found its mark the hound would return with something dead in his mouth and my arrow still lodged in its body. Nothing pleased me more than when I spied him plodding through the dirt with fresh blood on his muzzle. I started sharing my food with him instead of making him hunt for every morsel he wanted.

The next day my stomach tied itself in knots wondering where Tyval could be. I refused to leave my bed, preferring to stay wrapped up in my covers against the cold air that was growing even colder by the day. Meeko didn't move from my side, snuggling against me but resting on top of my blankets. The day after that I strengthened my resolve to step back into the room Tyval and I had avoided, going through _monah_'s old clothing to see if any of her winter clothing would fit me. Meeko paced around me nervously so I let him out to run around and chase whatever rabbits were hopping about. It was frustrating to find that while I could slide into her smalls, her thick winter dresses were too long and too loose on me. By the end of the day I managed to salvage a few thick cloaks and a pair of boots about half a size too big.

But then another day passed and another and another and another. Anytime Meeko's ears perked up my heart leapt into my chest and I would fling the door open only to find no one waiting for. There was no sound of an old, empty cart or even a full one. Suddenly, Tyval had been gone for two weeks and the air had turned even colder. At night I shook with fear that the worst had happened.

"Maybe he's dead," I cried to Meeko who laid a sympathetic head on my lap. "It shouldn't take this long for him to return."

Another night my anger overtook my sadness. "The bastard!" I screamed as I threw an empty bottle of wine across the room.

But it didn't matter what I felt; the days grew shorter and the nights grew longer. The winter was now upon me in the thick of Evening Star and I had to accept the obvious: my brother was gone.

* * *

**Well, time for me to be terribly awful to poor Elya. Don't fret; it won't be the last time. Yes, Elya's parents are somewhat deplorable; both of them have shady pasts and, at least as evidenced by here, Evra did wonders to contribute to Elya's sense of superiority (if you haven't read "Dark Birds," I'll just tell you now Evra is not happy living in Skyrim and doesn't quite have the most open mind when it comes to Nords. Also, Evra and whatever her "true self" is? I imagine it to be terrifically horrifying. **


	4. Arc 1: I Hope Someday I'll See Him Again

_I'm alone_.

No matter how many times Meeko nudged me, my body laid on my bed unmoving. My mind was somewhere else. Over mountains, across rivers. Instead my vacant stare didn't waiver from a dark knot in the wood on the wall directly across from me. The mutt curled beside me and whined, the look in his eyes pleading with me to get up.

I didn't dare open my mouth to speak because lately anything I uttered caused me to sob. My eyes stung every time I blinked; however, it was worse hearing my wails and moans echo in the empty, empty house. Instead of speaking or walking or doing _anything_, my thoughts had me enthralled in rich, comforting fantasies. I kept thinking, _It will be dawn soon and then my brother will come wake me up. Afterwards I'll complain but get up anyway. _Bormah _will be sitting at the table, kissing _monah_ and making her giggle_.

But dawn came and went many times and the only thing that woke me up in the morning was the ever-growing cold that crept between the cracks and curled around my toes and my fingers. One day I noticed that the cold had sunk into my bones, the kind of frigid that wouldn't melt until spring. Meeko had become my only source of warmth. He was competent enough to go out and hunt for himself so I would let him out. Eventually, something convinced me to at least stay at the table and slowly go back to what had become routine for me. I read, I made arrows, I played with Meeko. The only difference was I became paranoid about my store of food.

Hunting animals that were becoming scarcer wouldn't fill my belly. The food Tyval had brought me from the place he'd found the dog was almost gone. I couldn't dare bring myself to eat more than a couple of bites of something small every day. My head swam with dizziness while my stomach gnawed on itself but I couldn't afford temporary satisfaction for long term salvation. That was until the last day of Evening Star when the snow began to fall.

* * *

If it was panic or good planning, I couldn't take credit for either. All I knew was I couldn't afford to stay alone in the house with only Meeko to keep me company. Once winter was in full force I _would _die here with no food. Tyval's concerns about bandits weren't just some silly worry he had voiced long ago. With the weather turning there would be all manner of men and women who would have no problem killing me in return for a warm place to stay. So a few days after the snow began to fall, I began to plan my departure.

The largest knapsack I could find was buried in a chest that hadn't been locked. There was no use packing clothes save for a couple of pairs of smallclothes; instead I stuffed every nook of the bag with what potions I could gather, Tyval's empty journal, the odd pocketwatch, what food was left, herbs, rope, and the fire striker with what flint was left over. When I realized there was still room in one of the pockets, I stuffed as much linen as I could; if I needed to dress a minor wound, I would soak a strip in some healing potion.

Meeko followed me around with more energy than he'd shown in the past weeks. Seeing me up and about must have made him happy so I let him pad along underfoot and tolerated it when he would drop something at my feet.

"Meeko," my voice sounded raspy even to myself. I smiled and scratched him behind the ears to let him know I wasn't displeased. "The more we linger here, the worse the snow is going to become. Believe me, you don't want to wander around out there when it gets dark and nothing's familiar because Skyrim's put on its winter coat."

At the sound of my voice he yipped excitedly and bounced around.

"Alright!" I laughed, surprising myself. When was the last time I had laughed? Bending down I gave him a quick hug. It felt so reassuring that I almost forgot to keep rushing. "C'mon. Sooner we leave, the sooner we can make our way to Dragon Bridge."

When the words left my mouth, it _sounded _like a good idea. Leaving home was what I always tried to convince Tyval to do and now that I could, it seemed like the _only _idea. That was the first place my brother said he was going to visit weeks ago; if I found him there still I was going to do more than just pepper him with empty threats. My fist was going to take at least one tooth as payment. _At least._

I tossed out every bit of Tristyval's clothing, searching for the best pairs of pants and shirts I could find. Luck was on my side when I found both of his thick, woolen cloaks. I only had one left after last winter's disaster; it had been a small mistake traveling along the river like I had been. When I slipped into the Karth I was lucky to have pulled myself out but I lost my second cloak as it was torn and dragged by the currents from my neck. Gods, _monah _had been so thoroughly upset that even _bormah_ yelled at me.

Wincing at the thought, I continued to rummage through with Meeko at my heels. Dressing down to my smalls, I put on two layers of Tyval's clothing and then threw over two of my own dresses.

"Layers, my wild girl," _monah_'s voice reminded me. "Layers will keep the warmth in."

The only gloves I could find were a pair of _bormah_'s but they would have to do. I wrapped my feet at least twenty times over with the thickest strips of cloth we had once used to wrap our hands with when we did chores outside. Stuffing my feet into a pair of _monah_'s thick leather boots that was about a size too large, I sighed.

"Meeko, any chance you'd be good at finding something to stuff into the toes of these things?" I cocked an eyebrow at him in question but he only looked at me, confused. "Yes, yes," I sighed. "Left to my own devices, I know." Reaching over I grabbed a shirt and ripped it until I had enough material to keep my toes from wiggling around.

It was hard to move with the four layers of clothes and three cloaks I had tied around my shoulders; right now it would be too much but in a couple of weeks, it wouldn't be enough to keep the cold out. As my too big boots stomped on the floor, the din was grating on my nerves. Taking one last longing look at the table, the Destruction spellbook that I had poured over many days laid there. The debate back and forth in my mind was noiseless but still caught my attention. If I took it I could sell it, maybe even keep working on my flames. The only problem was I didn't have enough room in my knapsack.

Meeko tugged at the skirt of my dress with enough force that it almost pulled me forward. I crossed my arms. "What is it—" And then I heard what he was going on about.

_Voices_. More than one and they didn't sound pleasant.

I froze. Meeko took note of my actions and released my dress, keeping completely quiet.

"Damn the spellbook," my whisper was so quiet that it was almost soundless. My had reached around to my belt to make sure my knife was secure. "Meeko, stay." I put out my hand to emphasize my command.

All those weeks of walking around silently had paid off for at least this one moment; as the voices drew nearer, I crept along the floor and reached out long to grab my bow and a quiver full of arrows. Just as I shrugged the strap of the quiver behind me, the voices stopped. My heart did the same.

"Meeko," the hound glanced up at me expectantly. "We're going to run."

* * *

The wind whipped at my face as I pumped my legs as hard as I could. Meeko tore ahead of me bounding on all fours. Both of us crunched at the snow and ice that coated the ground and my lungs began to sting at the cold air I was breathing in. There was no point in looking back to wonder if there really _were _bandits; the way the strangers had laughed and carried on… it wasn't to be trusted. The only thing I needed to focus on was getting to Dragon Bridge.

The idea that I needed a gods damned _map _to get to the tiny town was ridiculous. _Bormah_ and I had made the trip so many times during the year, I could have traveled blind. Now it was just me and some mongrel my lying brother had left me with as some sort of preemptive apology.

_Sorry for leaving you._

_ Sorry for lying to you._

_ Sorry for acting as if we would never be apart._

My mind raced to the answer to any apology Tyval would uselessly throw at me.

_Sorry for kicking you in the balls. _

Anger fueled my steps as the bare trees rushed past me, sometimes a low lying branch catching my cloak or my hair. Meeko leapt over a felled log and when I went to do the same, the weight I carried caused my foot to glance it and my whole body was hurled into ground and the snow. My chin hit the hard-packed earth and my lip caught on a rock. The mutt who was several paces ahead of me stopped dead in his tracks and dashed back towards me.

All of my dry clothes were now dusted with snow and as I gathered myself to my knees my tongue ran across my swollen bottom lip tasting the bitter iron blood that was now dripping down my chin. Wiping it with the back of my hand, I flopped down onto the log and cried hard into my hands. Meeko rested his head in my lap but I didn't return his affection. I took one longing glimpse back at from where I had come, my breath caught in my throat. I couldn't see home anymore.

The dog gave one final, gentle tug at my sleeve. He was begging me to press on. With his eyes, there was one simple request: _press on_.

As I stood up and dusted myself off, I realized that it wasn't the mutt but me. I was hearing my own thoughts and they were just being reflected back to me wherever I glanced. The plead was found in the quiet of the wilds and the distant sound of the river. When a lone bird chirped sadly in the sky, my mind only heard: _you can't go back so you press on. _

_ You can't die. Not here. Not now._

_ Press on._

"I still have a brother to beat into a fine bone meal."

The thought kept me warm on the inside.

* * *

The sound of the rushing waterfall was a relief.

"Ever been to Dragon Bridge, mutt?" my hand reached down to give him a quick pat on the head. "Don't get too excited though. Isn't much to see here."

When the woods finally cleared and we stepped out into the open, the bridge came into sight. The dark structure was more than intimidating against the lightly falling snow and the slivers of moon lighting our way. About halfway into the trip, a strange kind of fear had gripped me. Maybe I had run from home for no reason at all. Maybe Tyval was back and had just gotten lost again. It had happened before. I was aware that sometimes I could be reckless; maybe this time I had acted too impulsively.

Standing at the foot of the bridge, I stared at the dragon's head that was carved into stone. Even when I was young, I would ask _bormah_ to let me stop at the edges of the bridge so I could sit and watch it.

"What are you going on about, Rookling?"

I liked swinging my legs and bouncing my heels off of the stone. "Are dragons real, _bormah_?"

And he would lean on the edge beside me, smirking at my question. "Well, the Nords certainly think so. You know, even in High Rock there's an old legend about a dragon who made alliances with the royalty of Wayrest."

"_Really_?" My eyes had widened and I leaned forward almost falling off. "Is Wayrest _big_?" My arms spread out as far as they could go. "Because dragons must be _gigantic!_"

_Bormah _would roll his eyes. "Hah! Wayrest. _Gods_. One day, Rookling, we'll return to High Rock and I'll take you to _Daggerfall_. Now that's a proper city. Wayrest just wishes all of its ostentatious displays could make up for what it lacks against Daggerfall."

"Osentashens?" The word rolled around clumsily in my mouth.

"Os-ten-TAY-shus," he repeated. "Means someone's trying to display something that they can't rightly deliver on. Y'know, like when someone wants to pretend they're rich so they'll put on all the trappings but don't have two Septims to rub together."

_Ostentatious_. The dragon's head staring back at me was anything but that.

Meeko followed after me without any word of request. His claws clicked against the hard stone, tip-tapping as I took even longer strides. As my foot hit the ground, something odd filled my mind, like the feeling of being on the bridge was over-whelming me and threatening to burst into a full-fledged idea the longer I stayed on the structure. Something about the bridge and the dragon caused my tongue to feel heavy with the promise of some word that I couldn't quite get a hold of.

It created an uncomfortable sensation until I finally stepped off of the bridge. Strolling up the path, I allowed myself to feel a bit safer knowing I was near others and not holed up in the wilds. A guardsman in colors I couldn't see well against the dark shadows his torch was throwing stopped me before I could move any further.

"Girl, anyone ever tell you it's dangerous to be wandering around at night?"

Swallowing my nerves, my fists clenched in resolve. "Just looking for a room for the night. My brother's here." The lie came easily enough.

He nodded gruffly in response as he pointed up the hill. "Best make your way to the Four Shields then."

I didn't bother telling him that I knew the place, hoping that he'd leave me be. Not too terribly far, the tavern was a local haunt and usually quiet. Fryssa owned the place but she had a daughter a little older than me named Faida who shared in the work. Convincing Meeko to stay behind was another matter.

"Just for tonight. I'll figure out where my brother ran off to and then we'll be off again. Maybe I can sell a potion or two," I assured him, leaning down to scratch him underneath his chin. He seemed pleased enough with the promise and circled around a few times before plopping down his full weight on the porch.

When I flung open the door, I was met with an indescribably delicious warmth. For weeks I hadn't bothered lighting the fire at home because there was no one to light it for, no one to cook for. The hearth of the inn glowed brightly for no one now but me and Fryssa, the older woman with tawny brown hair and an increasingly suspicious frown on her face.

"Anything I can do for you girl?" her voice dripped with undisguised mistrust as she stopped sweeping. I had no idea what time it was.

"I… uh…" I twisted a lock of loose hair that had fallen out of its tie with my index finger. What was the most important thing right now? "I need a room," I blurted out.

Without batting an eye she responded, "That'll be ten."

Now, here was where things got complicated, trying to convince this woman to let me stay knowing I had nothing to pay with.

"Right, now about that—"

"Waaaait…" Fryssa moved toward me squinting and studying my face. "Aren't you Colin's girl?"

My heart leapt at the recognition. "Yes! I'm Colin's daughter!"

Propping her fists against her tips, her frown relaxed a little. "What on Nirn are you doing out in the middle of this weather at night?"

Pursing my lips I admitted, "Looking for my brother." It was partly true.

"Your brother?" As if the word sparked some memory she continued, "Is he your twin?"

_Tyval was alive!_ was my first thought, but my next one was, _I'll tear out his tongue for making me suffer like this._

"We look awfully alike but he's older," I touched my hair and then my cheeks, "Same raven hair, same high cheekbones, and same dark eyes."

Fryssa went back to sweeping. "Yeah, I think I remember him. Came through a few weeks ago."

When she didn't expand, I followed her and stopped her by grabbing the broom handle. "And?"

"And what?" her thick Nord accent rolled off her tongue like the water off a stone.

"Well did he say anything? Buy a map? Get supplies?" my hands were shaking at the possibility that he could still be in town.

"Oh. No, nothing like that from my recollection," when my face fell, it must have made her realize that I was a little more desperate than I was letting on. "Girl, he left with some elves and a Redgaurd."

My stomach fell into my bowel. "_What?_"

Fryssa shrugged. "Listen, I don't know much beyond that. You still wanting that room?"

Hoping that since she remembered my father she would have some pity on me, I told her truthfully, "I don't have any gold," her frown came back, so I quickly added, "But I have some potions that I can't use. If you'll buy something, I'm sure I'd have enough gold for at least one night."

She closed her eyes and sighed heavily. This couldn't go well. From what I could remember Fryssa wasn't a woman to suffer anything but profit and ran a tight ship. I held my breath as I watched my suggestion go back and forth in her head.

"Let's see what you have then."

Immediately I threw off the bow and quiver, tossing the knapsack on the ground so I could immediately dig out a few bottles I knew I wouldn't need. "Here," between two fingers dangled the necks of a heavy-bottomed, orange bottle and a small, green stamina potion.

Fryssa snatched the orange one out of my hand and unstopped the bottle, taking a deep whiff of the contents. Her brow furrowed, "What's someone like you doing with a potion like this?"

Genuinely puzzled I answered, "I don't even know what it is."

The chuckle she gave me was brief but serious. "It's a strong Illusion elixir. Doesn't seem to me like you'd need such a thing"

"Oh! My _bor_—" I caught myself. If there was one thing I knew that would immediately confuse others, it was my stupid tongue. "Papa and mama," I corrected. "They were both somewhat skilled at magick."

_That _gave Fryssa some pause. "Really, now? Colin always said he and his wife were merchants."

I had no good response for something I had no knowledge of. Whenever _bormah_ did business in Dragon Bridge, he'd let me run around and play. I had no idea what he told others. Instead I shrugged. No use mulling over that now. "Either way I have it. What's it worth?"

Stopping it back up, the woman gave me a thoughtful glance. "More than I have."

My foot tapped impatiently. This was becoming a problem. "And the other one?"

"I'll give you five Septims."

Nodding, I accepted the offer; my interest was focused on the other elixir. "Five isn't going to be enough for a room."

"It isn't," she agreed handing me the orange bottle back.

Examining the thick glass, I racked my mind. There had to be a way to use this to my advantage; I had something of worth. "What if you didn't give me gold?"

Fryssa raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Then what would I give you?"

"A room for a few nights," I offered quickly. "A map. A few supplies. Food and drink."

My foot kept tapping and I bit the inside of my cheek, watching her eyes dart back and forth between me and the bottle in my hand. My nerves were slowly becoming frazzled; if I could just get _something_ then I could start looking for Tyval. Even if I couldn't find him, I could at least have enough to get me further south. As long as I could get past winter, it would be a success.

She held out her hand and motioned me to give her the bottle. "Deal. Room over there is yours for at least a week, more if you don't want to buy anything.

I thanked Akatosh for the small bit of luck I had found.

* * *

The night's rest had done me good. Opting to stay in a pair of Tyval's winter clothes and boots, I broke my fast at the counter chatting with Fryssa. Hungrily I stuffed my mouth with as much bread and cheese as I dared while washing it down with weak ale.

"So why are you and your brother traveling alone? You two do know it's dangerous right now what with the Stormcloaks over in the East plotting something."

"Shtromcloks?" my mouth mumble through all the food.

Fryssa laughed at me. "Girl, where've you been? Locked in a tomb? The Stormcloaks. Ulfric and all the rest of them still reeling after the Great War and that mess in Markarth."

I just stared at her. There had been a _war_? "But that was at least a hundred years ago, right?"

It was the innkeeper's turn to stare at me, clicking her tongue as her head shook. "You really _were _locked up in a tomb, weren't you? By the Nines, young lady, it hasn't even been _twenty_ season cycles past."

Oh. Surely one of my parents must have known there was a war happening around us. They would have told us. I frowned but changed the subject. "You said my brother went off with some Mer and a Redguard. Would _anyone _know where he went?"

Fryssa shook her head but before she could answer, a shout from the basement called out to her. "I can't hear a damned word your saying, Faida! Either come up here or stop your yelling!"

There was some more excited shouting before Fryssa groaned. "Oh, for the sake of the _gods_. Just one moment."

As Fryssa went to check on her daughter, I stewed in all of the information I had just been given. A war. Something going on in Markarth. Maybe the war hadn't been large or well-known. Maybe it had been something small and just centered over here in the west. Fryssa probably never left the tavern much less Dragon Bridge; all she had were rumors from Nords too bloated and muddled with drink. When they said, "More," it was possible they had slurred it so it sounded like, "War."

When she returned I asked again, "Is there anyone who would know where my brother went?"

As the woman wiped down the counter with an old rag, she shook her head. "Girl, if I knew anything I'd tell ya. Besides where're your parents?"

"Traveling." Lying seemed harmless; it was either that or admit they were dead. If I voiced the truth aloud there was no telling what might happen to me. I had heard of orphans but knew nothing of what became of them in Skyrim. For all I knew I'd be carted off somewhere far off.

Fryssa didn't press me further but tilted her head to give me a suspicious glance. "Soooo, what kinds of things are you looking at buying?"

"A map for certain. Any potions you might have," I tried going over what else I might need. "Just show me what you've got."

She pulled out a score of items from underneath the counter. "Take a look."

The only map she had looked worn but well-marked. "Is this reliable?" I asked, remembering the trouble Tristyval had run into.

"As the day is long."

I pushed it aside along with what health and magick potions were on the counter; if anything, on dark nights candlelight would be a solace. A magick potion would lengthen how long I could stay there. My eyes settled on a piece of charcoal and I took that as well. When I'd cleared out the food she was selling I frowned. "Have I taken my gold's worth yet?"

Fryssa shook her head. "No, but I still don't have enough to pay you. Just stay here a couple more nights and fill your belly. Weather isn't going to get any better soon."

It wasn't satisfying. There was no reason for me to stay in Dragon Bridge if I could be looking for Tyval. But instead of telling her that, I grinned. "Alright."

* * *

The way I saw it, Fryssa owed me money. As I tore off the pelt on the bed late at night, I worked to rearrange my pack so I could fold it and pad it on the bottom. My plan was to stay until dawn and then leave. Quickly. If I could pull off what I was hoping to do then I _really _wouldn't be welcome here for long. I bounced up and down on my bare heels to get a feel for how much give the floor had; the wood floor was chilled but I was satisfied. I checked my timepiece once more feeling confident that Fryssa wouldn't be out and about, too busy working in the basement.

After staying two more nights I realized that the innkeeper would work from late night into early morning checking her inventory downstairs while Faida slept. As long as I could stay quiet, she wouldn't be any wiser to what I was up to. The hardest part would be leaving and coming back into the room; the door was unforgivably stubborn.

Leaning against the door slightly, I opened the door so slowly it felt like it took an era to do so. Peaking around the edge, there wasn't anyone around. Swinging one leg out from the door, I made sure to shift my weight into the step as opposed to putting all my weight down at once. The hearth fire crackled softly and I heard some banging around downstairs. Holding my breath I winced as the door creaked slightly. I froze but the racket still continued below.

As I tip-toed quickly, a fluttering bloomed in my stomach and rose into my throat. I was nervous but it was also a little… _thrilling_. I certainly wasn't expecting to feel like _giggling_ yet a bubble of excitement sat right behind my tongue. Crouching down to snatch what I could, my hand slid a bag swollen with gold into my opposite one. I was about to retreat back to my room when I saw a ring. It didn't look like anything special; it was bronze and held a scratched sapphire in the center. Filching it as well, I decided not to press my luck.

A little less quietly than when I'd left, my stomach continued to feel light and funny. As soon as the door closed, I let out the breath I had been holding and chuckled to myself slightly. But I didn't let my victory go to my head. I slipped on every piece of clothing I had and slid the bag of coins into my sack. Just when I had laid my head down on the bed, my mind suddenly gave me a disturbing thought: I couldn't stay here overnight. As soon as Fryssa came back up she was bound to check her wares and when she found the gold and ring missing, she'd _know_. I was the only guest here and had been for the past few nights.

Sure, there'd been patrons who came in to eat or gossip but only I had no place and somewhat questionable reasons for being here. I shot up out of bed and every flimsy excuse I could think of wouldn't be good enough. Packing my bow and arrow, I gathered my gear and skittered out the door like an insect. When I left the tavern, Meeko perked up at my presence.

Over the past few days I sat out with him and fed him what I could but Fryssa tolerated him sleeping the porch. "Hey, boy," I whispered, ignoring the way the wind cut into my face. It wasn't snowing but it was still cold. "Time for us to leave." When he whined at me, I frowned. "I know, I know. I don't like the idea of traveling at night either but as long as we're quiet and keep to the main road, we should be ok."

The guard was still walking about but he just gave me a glance before waving at me. I returned his gesture and tried not to linger too long. Once we crossed the bridge, I threw a candlelight over my head and dug my map out of my pouch. Meeko padded along contentedly beside me as I mused out loud, "South. We just follow the road that runs along the river." I pointed down. I had no idea where to go and didn't have the greatest knowledge of Skyrim. "Karthwasten? How's that sound, Meeko?"

The mutt didn't disagree but I wish he would have.

* * *

**Hold on because we're going to go through about a year and a half's worth of story in 16-20 pages next chapter. I'm a little unhappy having to blow through four years of Elya's life within 5-6 chapters but Relentless is going to be flippin' long to begin with. As long as the gist gets across, I'm sure that's sufficient. **


	5. Arc 1: The Winter War

**This update was well beyond the time I wanted to take for it, especially considering how much I wanted to just o get this one and the next out of the way quickly. Between two jobs, feeling crappy, and just feeling a little bummed about Relentless in general, I'm still steadily writing. **

**Also making an appearance in this chapter, a place I don't see to often in Skyrim talk: Drelas' Cottage.**

**Enjoy and thanks for reading!**

* * *

As I huddled in the corner of the shack with half a roof and no door, the usual thoughts began to rise to the surface of my mind.

_You idiot. You should have stayed in Dragon Bridge, shouldn't have stolen. Tyval doesn't give a shit about you. He _left _because he doesn't want to be found._

The wind howled louder and Meeko huddled against me even tighter. Underneath the layers of wool, me and the mutt weren't getting any benefit from it. My hands rubbed together in a futile attempt to stir some warmth; my fingertips burned from the scathing bites of the freezing cold. It was useless. I focused my efforts on bundling Meeko tighter instead. He whined but kept curled tight to me.

The days had begun to blur together and there was no doubt I was lost. My map was accurate but only for large markers like cities and towns and main rivers. While traveling I found that the Karth broke off into smaller creeks and streams quicker than I expected it to. Following the river south had been a foolish idea and now I was paying for it. For all I knew I was so turned around I was heading north again. I would believe it what with the snow storm blowing around me.

The only thing that helped me keep track of time was my journal. Sun's Dawn hadn't been any kinder to me than Evening's Star had been. In the time between my only major accomplishments had been to eat half my supply of food, kill starved rabbits, and find shelter when I needed to. The shack that we were sheltered in now was close to the road but tucked in far enough into the woods that the naked trees provided some cover. In the last few weeks the only other soul I had passed by was a lone courier, rushing past to deliver something.

"Meeko," I whispered. "Stop squirming. We need to stay here until the storm passes and then we'll get back to traveling."

He barked in reply and I put a gloved finger to my mouth.

"And stay _quiet_. Last thing we need is for a wolf to hear you." I didn't want to think about the other worse things like bears or sabre cats. Wolves were the only thing I had ever seen in my life but I'd heard stories about vicious sabre cats and snarling bears; the dog and I had already had a few run-ins with his wild cousins but running from them wasn't a problem as long as there wasn't a pack. When there was, climbing up a tree wasn't difficult. Meeko often held his own, snapping and growling while I loosed a few arrows at the animal. But I couldn't imagine that would work for anything bigger. Just stay away from caves. Don't wander too far into the wilds.

Rubbing my hands together again, I brought my cupped palms to my nose and breathed out hot air to warm my face. I had never been so unbearably cold in my life; my face was numb and my bones felt paralyzed. Even as my tongue licked across my lips to provide a small amount of warmth, chapping caused my lips to crack and bleed. Sleep was the only thing that permeated my thoughts but even Meeko wasn't foolish enough to succumb to that sweet refuge; the moment I closed my eyes would be the moment I would freeze to death or worse: someone could find me, rob me.

Not that what I had was worth anything here. Stealing from Fryssa had only rewarded me with about sixty Septims and I couldn't very well spend it in the wilds. Somehow I managed a joyless laugh as the idea of offering the gods some gold to stop the storm crossed my mind. Until this passed there was only one thing I could do. Breathing in, I tried to remember what it felt like when I created that fire to burn _bormah _and _monah_. It had been strange. On one hand the act was horrific and numbing but on the other…

There was something about being able to craft fire out of thin air, flames that could sweep across and burn and consume. Even while watching their bodies burn, a sort of sick pride I didn't dare voice sat under my skin. The light from the fire had illuminated Tristyval's sharp features, flashing bright against the dark; all the while I kept my thoughts at bay. _I fashioned this. I breathed out and there was _fire.

_Su'um. _The word whispered so quietly in the back of my mind it felt non-existent.

Even as I breathed out now, my hand clenched and unclenched rapidly as if trying to strike flint against a striker. When nothing appeared, I fumbled with my frustration. Repeating my gestures over and over again, Meeko simply watched me as he often did when I tried to work up a flame. So another breath and another flick of my fingers and then another. If anything, it kept me distracted, awake. Falling asleep would be dangerous. No matter how tempting the lull of what warmth was shared between me and my dog, I could not let my eyelids fall. I couldn't.

Sighing, I ran my thumb across the ridges of my fingers and then resting on the ring that fit only on my middle finger. If I allowed myself a moment of rest, would looters leave me out here naked and freezing? Maybe I would wake up in the middle of being robbed and they would assault me in more horrific ways instead. I forced myself to stop those thoughts immediately; the fear that they caused was enough to make me lose sleep for the next few nights. Rocking back and forth I kept clenching and unclenching my hand, breathing in and breathing out.

_Don't go to sleep. Don't eat your store of food. Don't succumb. _

"Stay awake," my hushed words commanded. The wind howled louder and I hugged Meeko tighter as he licked my face with his warm, soft tongue. "Just another hour. I can make it."

* * *

There were several more sunrises and several more sunsets but we had finally made our way to the foot of a mountain range. Even after consulting my map, I couldn't tell which direction I had headed. In both the far west and central parts of Skyrim there were mountains and caves and wilds.

"Curse the Eights," I muttered to Meeko. "Skyrim is nothing _but_ mountains and wilds and gods damned snow_._"

Meeko padded along happily beside me, his feet sinking into the thick snow. I grimaced as my tried wiggling my own toes. At some point they had become numb like the tips of my fingers but, unlike them, something felt off about them. My left foot especially. A day or so ago while crossing some water froze over, my feet broke through the ice and I had been soaked up to about mid-shin. I hadn't taken the time to let my boots dry or warm my feet. Silently vowing to take care of the matter as soon as I could, we continued to press forward. It wasn't too frigid, mostly owing to the fact no bitter wind was whipping at our backs.

The sun was setting, however, and we needed to either make camp or find shelter. Without knowing this area well, I was hesitant on settling in the outdoors. For weeks my strategy had been to either set up a shoddy lean-to and make a fire while I slept off and on fitfully or to see if there was an empty building, stay for a few days. More often than not I was left to my own devices but a few times I had been lucky enough to find unoccupied homes or stone towers left to crumble, the wilds already claiming their bones. I wasn't thrilled with trying to make camp in this area when it offered no natural protection; one would think with all the craggy rocks jutting out from the base of the mountain that some of them would give way to cover, but there were none to be found.

"Well, Meeko," I sighed, shifting my bow behind my back. When my stomach growled noisily, I winced. "Unless we can find something quick, we're going to be stuck sleeping out in the open." Not a welcome idea. As if to agree, Meeko sat and looked up at me dutifully. "C'mon. We've got some sunlight still left. Let's see if we can find something."

Although I wasn't too enthusiastic about our prospects, I wasn't willing to give up so easily. The only thing to do was round the base of the mountain, exploring every nook and recess; my general rule was to stay away from caves but if it was small enough then I wouldn't need to worry about any large animals. If I came upon a bear, my only options were to either run or die. Not exactly _great_ options. The gods must have held some small measure of pity for me because just before the sun completely abandoned us, the entrance to some small hollow became visible.

"Meeko," my voice was so low that it didn't echo much against the entrance. "Stay, boy." Obediantly, he sat and stared at me intently. Whoever he had belonged to before had trained the dog well; I could trust that when I returned, Meeko would be sitting right there and unmoving. I swung my bow out and grabbed one of my many poorly constructed arrows out of my quiver. My choice arrows had been depleted long ago, fending off wolves and unsuccessfully trying to shoot at small game like rabbits and foxes. More often than not, it would be Meeko making the final push toward the goal while I simply shepherded the animal into position.

Now though, I was left with thin, stiff branches I had whittled down into fine points and notched at the ends so the flimsy string of my bow would steady it. They certainly weren't effective at long range but closer, I was sure I could get off a few successful shots. Carefully, my feet shifted weight against the soft ground and the moment I heard a shuffling noise, I froze. Something was indeed in here and I couldn't see well. Had there been sunlight, I wouldn't have had a problem but now the dusk was too dark. Inhaling slowly and deeply, my hands fumbled as I nocked an arrow. Another scratching sound, claw upon ground.

This was the worst part about being alone: whenever I was put on the defensive, it always worried me. What if I was seriously hurt? There would be no one to help me. Sure, I'd been scratched and nipped at by wolves and the like but I was usually able to fend them off with one good swing of a tree branch and Meeko at my back. In the dark with something unknown picking up my scent? _That _was the sort of thing that made the hair on my neck stand on end. My left foot eased backwards slowly but as soon as my heel met the floor of the cave, something dark and snarling came flying towards me.

I panicked. There wasn't any point in loosing an arrow now; instead I began smacking the creature as hard as I could with my bow, punching and swiping wildly. It made some sound that reminded me of clicking but continued to scratch and nip at my ankles. It hissed and I swiped again, kicking at it wildly. My foot finally found its side and thrust it into the nearest rock; I couldn't celebrate my luck just yet though: another black creature clamped down on my dress while another began to gnaw at my ankles.

"Meeko!" I screeched, still swinging my bow, kicking, stumbling backwards to get to the exit. "Gods damned—"

My heels met with something and I felt myself lose balance, then the world began to move backwards in a whirl of dark and wind. My elbow cracked against something hard and before I could cry out, something flew over me in a flurry of fur and growling. Being a little closer to the entrance, I could barely make out what was going on: Meeko picked off what looked like a skeever and with one quick whip, snapped its neck. The rodent went limp. Scrambling to regain balance, I took one of my own feet and stomped down as hard as I could on the skeever that was chewing at Meeko's leg. The sick crunch of bones beneath my boot felt like twigs cracking in mud. In an instant everything went quiet save for our panting.

"Well," it suddenly felt uncomfortably hot in the cave. "It looks like we've got dinner."

It took me more than couple of tries with the fire striker in the mostly dark to light the skeevers' nest on fire; luckily the rodents were fond of making their little bundles out of material that was perfect for kindling. Once a spark found an affordable piece of brush, the fire flickered briefly before quietly roaring. Meeko accompanied me as I rushed out to gather sticks large enough to fashion a crude spit.

Within that dark hour, I was able to skin the skeevers best that I could and get most of their meat on the fire. The fire was creating enough warmth that I felt comfortable enough shedding all but one dress and the layer of Tyval's clothes underneath and slipped off my boots. The fire didn't provide enough light but my toes didn't look right; running my hands across the tips, they felt harder than the flesh should have been and looked paler than usual. My heart leapt into my throat, thinking the worst until I realized I could still feel bites of pain nip away on most of my toes. The small toe on my left foot was still numb and it looked even paler than its mates.

"That could have been bad," I reached over to feel the skeever meat and looked over at Meeko, "My feet are kind of important." Hopefully in a few days that one toe would stop being so stubborn.

He wagged his tail happily at me, tongue hanging outside his mouth with blood all over his muzzle.

"Well, if you wait a little bit longer, we'll have a proper meal. Fat bastards."

The thought of something other than plants and too-thin rabbits made my stomach growl in anticipation. I sighed, not realizing how exhausted I was. The mutt and I had been constantly on the move since Dragon Bridge, only stopping to rest when necessary and even then fitfully.

Feeling a bit secure hidden away, I undid my pack fully; first I laid out the blanket I had filched, now dirty and slightly ragged at the ends. It did a good enough job but I would have given anything for a warm bed. Then there were the bottles upon bottles that I arranged on a jutting edge, sat my journal and the pocket watch and bag of useless Septims beside them.

Meeko padded around some space close to me in circles before settling down and then finally laying his head on my feet, licking at my toes. When I shrieked at the action, laughing, he yipped at me playfully.

"Well!" My hand gave him a quick scratch on the head. "It doesn't help I've got ticklish feet, it's your fault if I'm carrying on like a hargraven." My grin was so wide that it almost hurt.

He barked again and settled back down, gazing up at me.

"We've gotta wait, mutt," I poked at the meat again; it gave a little less. "I'm hungry too."

The sympathy must have given him a little more incentive to be patient because he didn't make another sound until it was finished. In the mean time I dragged out the journal again and did the best I could to write out anything I had learned; Tyval had been right about keeping a record of what I learned. Making lists and crude drawings of what was safe to eat and what wasn't became the biggest advantage. I would tick off the days, scribble every now and then.

Once we had eaten our fill, I curled onto the top of the blanket and threw an arm around Meeko, holding him closer and breathing in the scent of wild in his fur.

* * *

When a few mornings had passed, a routine had finally been established. Every day we woke up to silent cold, the fire having gone out during the night. I finally devised a way to use the thick blanket as a door of sorts, covering what I could of the entrance by shoving its edges into crevices and pushing smaller gravel into the recesses. If Meeko wasn't chasing down a fox, I was busy climbing trees, shoving a gloved hand into squirrels' nests and either finding a store of nuts or, if I was lucky, a squirrel. I became very proficient at breaking the necks of small animals while ignoring their desperate scratching and biting.

The dog was too busy jumping about kicking up snow here and there; I watched him as I swung my legs back and forth, bracing myself on the large tree limb that wasn't too far from the ground. Days like this weren't bad with the sun shining brightly and the sky dotted with only a few clouds. Some patches of earth were even visible now but it was little surprise: soon First Seed would be here and then winter would _finally _end.

As Meeko continued to snap playfully at some snow, my hand traveled back up to my side. It was disturbing the way I could feel my rib cage, my fingers visibly waved up and down between the ridges and notches of the bone. There had been plenty of days where I hadn't eaten and the only thing to consume was snow. The skeever meat would have run out within the first day had this been a meal at home; in the wild I had to conserve, eating a scrap or two here and relying on leaves and other small animals to add to my diet.

My toes had benefited from a regular fire in a dry place but my small toe had gotten worse; it was now feeling waxy like a candle and I had lost all feeling in it. This morning I noticed that it was starting to blacken at the tip. My mind rebelled at what I'd have to do next.

"Meeko!" I yelled, my hand cupped to my mouth. With a quick shove, I pushed off the limb and landed hard onto the ground. "C'mon! Stop playing around. We've got to find food."

Of course, the mongrel didn't run back immediately but instead took a moment to jump in circles a couple of times before racing around me, pawing at my feet and panting with his tail whipping wildly.

"C'mon!" I ran my hand through my hair while another hand rested on my hip. It was hard ignoring how tangled and knotted my hair became during the day. Every night I had to spend a great deal of time undoing each strand by hand; even tying it back only helped a little.

Grabbing my bow and an arrow, I motioned Meeko to follow me. Sometimes I got lucky. Once I was able to aim correctly and shot a fox. More often than not I would just save my arrows and let Meeko chase something down. Sharing our food had become hard but we made it. We stayed out until the sun began setting orange and gold, making the snow and trees turn black and blue against the strength of its light.

When we finally stumbled back to our makeshift home, I had a thick bundle of wood to stoke a larger fire, a large number of small plants I'd crammed into my pouch, and one stone I'd found to replace the flint I'd struck to death. As I fed Meeko a couple of scraps of meat, I tried to ignore the way he was looking thinner as well. My meal consisted of what small plants were strong enough to persevere through the snow. Lots of plants and lots of snow and nuts and small dead animals.

One day it would be spring and the choices wouldn't be so sparse.

Until then I had to do something about my toe.

Wiggling both sets of toes in front of me, legs outstretched. Except my small toe was worse now, the black now past my nail.

"Shit," the word quietly hissed through my teeth.

What did I know about being bit by ice?

Nothing good, that was for certain. My parents yelling at me to bundle up or the consequences would be dire.

"Elya!" _monah's_ voice would ring out as I ran out the door. "It's getting cold out! If you don't put some shoes on, Skyrim will bite your toes off!"

Glaring at the offending toe now, I had an idea as to what that meant. Meeko sat by the fresh fire, belly up and resting contentedly. My mind wouldn't let me forget about my toe.

A shiver went up my spine. "Gods." I shook my head. "No, no, no."

But what would happen if I didn't? Maybe it would become infected, start spreading to my entire foot. Something worse, like an infection in my blood that would course like wildfire through my veins. I had a knife, enough potions. For all I knew, it wouldn't even _hurt._

"Ok, ok," my voice didn't sound very steady as I tried to assure myself. Unsheathing my knife from my belt, I turned it over in my hand and admired the way the flames smoothed across the metal. "Just… just…"

Something caught in my throat and instead of finishing the thought, my leg swung over and I contorted myself so that the blade could touch the underside of the toe. It was worse. The black was even darker and more widespread.

My hand refused to move, even with nothing between my toe and the knife. I brought my hand up and then swung down hard. It stopped right before it could do any work.

"Argh!" my other fist pounded at the ground. "Just do it already! Stop being such a gods damned coward and do what needs to be done!"

Meeko shot up, concerned at my shouting. Whimpering, he didn't move closer.

"Worry about yourself!"

He only laid back down but kept his eyes on me.

My hands shook, sweat dripped down my brow. Sighing, I looked away for a moment and spotted the rows of bottles, red and blue liquids shining through the thick glass.

Hastily I grabbed a health potion and uncorked the stop. Tearing at the hem of my dress, I ripped off a length of fabric and soaked it liberally. I poured some over the toe and then took a gulp. Once I'd wrapped my small toe and the one next to it with the fabric, I felt a little more confidant.

Then I was back to the whole "knife against my flesh" thing. My hand refused to move though. It gripped the knife tightly enough and my arm felt strong and ready; they were just not under my control right now. My body was battling against me, refusing to let me harm myself.

Closing my eyes tightly, I was surprised to feel a tear slide down my cheek.

"I have to do this," I whispered to myself, trying to convince my body that this needed to happen. "It won't hurt. It's numb. Just a good, hard chop."

It turned out I wasn't quite as good lying to myself.

Because it hurt.

A lot.

The first slice was painless but I'd forgotten about the bone.

Foolish, stupid me.

There was a great deal of shouting and screaming and crying but I wasn't even present. At some point my mind shut off and my hands kept sawing and steadying my foot. And then I had to snap my bone.

Then there was darkness.

* * *

If someone had told me that I would be spending two years of my life with no one but my dog as a companion and a miserable little hole in the mountain as my home, it would have sounded like such fantasy that I would have laughed until the next Era.

Be that as it may, I did.

Winters were harsh but predictable. Spring and summer were kinder to us. It became easier to find food. Each day that past with warmth and food, I felt less bone underneath mine and Meeko's flesh. Not too far from where we had made home, snow from the mountain melted down into fresh water. I learned that I had wandered so far from the roads that I was a good hour away from any regular traffic; however, I did find that a Dark Elf lived in a cottage south to us, not even thirty minutes at a good pace. Some days I would leave Meeko behind to spend the day with himself and I would camp out high in a tree, watching his house intently.

He lived alone. Muttered to himself constantly, his eerie-sounding language unintelligible to me. Every now and then he would leave to gather supplies. Every two weeks he did so regularly and was always gone for half the day, leaving early in the morning and returning just as the sun reached its peak in sky. For two months I watched, checking the timepiece I had that I couldn't read but began to understand well enough. Then, one day, I braved a risk.

I waited for some time before stealing my way down past his chickens, clucking stupidly at me as I shoved the unyielding door: locked. My eyes darted around, taking in what options I had before me. The chicken coop turned out to be the only supply of something thin and metal. Untwisting the cords, I used my knife to snap off a piece and then returned to the door, using both to fiddle around with the lock.

Tyval would have laughed. It took me more time than I would have liked to hear a satisfying click. Once inside though, I had my pick of the world it seemed: books, an alchemy table, chests filled with supplies, a spit with food. So I took what I dared, experimented with what I felt safe with. Some days I would gather my courage and play around with the alchemy table, most of my creations ending in a mess. I would take books, one at a time and return them when I came back. There were books like _The Firmament _that taught me about the birth signs, _A Brief History of the Empire, v4 _that held information about the Empire, and others that contained stories about Dwemer and the Thief Queen, Barenziah. There were more, but I was fixated on her.

Barenziah had been queen of Wayrest in High Rock but wielded enough power to be the queen mother of Morrowind, a land across an entire continent. Love affairs with an emperor made me blush but thoughts of her and Tiber Septim quickly blurred and the feelings that it stirred in me were frustrating, unfamiliar, and unfulfilled. Despite wanting to continue learning about her, I had to stop reading. Instead I exchanged it for _The Book of Daedra._

I would spend hours, rolling the names of unfamiliar gods in my mouth, taking big bites out of apples stolen from the elf's cottage, juice rolling down my chin from the fruit.

"'Hermaeus Mora," the name sounded strange in my mouth. "'Whose sphere is scrying of the tides of Fate, of the past and future as read in the stars and heavens, and in whose dominion are the treasures of knowledge and memory.'"

Meeko yawned wide and then went back to chewing on some stick he had grown attached to.

"Azura, Meridia…" I scanned over to the bottom. "Legendary artifacts, huh?" Reaching over, I yanked the stick from Meeko. "I've got your Wabbajack!" I teased, waving it in front of him as I jump up. "Come and get it!" Running out of the entrance, the mutt stayed close on my heels.

If there was something else I had learned, it was that the animals of the wilds didn't care much for people. Once I learned where the territory of the wolves and bears laid, it wasn't hard to avoid them. From time to time, I would laze about high in a tree and watch less-seasoned travelers on the road wander unsuspectingly into a wolf's area. As soon as I would see the wolf or its pack begin stalking, I would let out a high pitched whistle. It not only distracted the wolves but put the fools on the road alert.

Sabre cats, however, were another story. The only course of action when I even _thought _one was lurking about was to run. But I wasn't paying attention as we darted out between the now familiar trees and dips. Instead Meeko kept nipping good-naturedly at me as I laughed loudly, still waving the stick behind me. It wasn't until I heard the snarl that my blood ran cold.

Turning on a heel, I found the large cat behind us, its strong muscles rippling underneath his skin as he paced back and forth, side to side. Two large teeth protruded from his salivating mouth. Meeko shot in front of me, his haunches taut and the fur on his back raised as he met the sabre cats snarl.

"Meeko," I whispered so softly that it wasn't even a word. "Don't."

My hand was gripping the stick so hard that I couldn't feel my knuckles.

I had no control over the flurry of fur and claw that tumbled about in front of me. Meeko lunged for the throat while the cat swiped a large paw; it jarred him but his jaws were clamped tight. They were so quick that it all happened within the blink of an eye.

I might have screamed but when Meeko's neck got caught by the cat and then flung his body, it was as if something inside me snapped. The instant the sabre cat glanced over to evaluate its work, I lunged. My aim couldn't have been any more perfect as I sunk the piece of wood into its eye. It tried to chomp at me but caught only fabric, swiped at me but I was too fueled on anger to be moved. My arm was steel, my hand a rock. And then the cat went still.

I stood there for a long time not looking at either animal, instead focusing my attention on the blood on my hand and running down my arm.


End file.
